Fright Night in Santa Carla
by Ranranami
Summary: Following the events in Fright Night 2 ('88), Charley and Alex find themselves moving to the somewhat creepy town of Santa Carla. It would seem that for this pair, the nightmares never truly end.
1. Chapter 1: Murder Capital?

Author's note: I've always loved Fright Night 1 and 2. Throwing a part 3 into the Lost Boys universe only seemed to make sense to me. This story takes place the same day Michael and his family arrived in Santa Carla, and clearly several months after the events in Fright Night 2.

* * *

"Santa Carla. Murder capitol of the world..." Alex read aloud as they drove past a garish billboard near the edge of the city. Charley smirked and glanced over at his fiancee, patting her knee comfortingly.

"Don't worry, I won't let _anyone_ get to you, Miss Young," he teased as she leaned to her left and placed her head on his shoulder, smirking.

"Well, Mister Brewster, I think it's pretty clear _I'm_ the one who's better at protecting _you_."

Charley smirked, grabbing a pair of sunglasses from the side of the driver's side door and sliding them onto his face.

"Don't tell me you're going to start wearing those again! Did you get bitten by another-" Alex joked, stopping when Charley stuck his tongue out at her and looked back towards the road. Six months after Alex's graduation, and three months after Charley's own, their lives were beginning to truly settle into something like domestic bliss.

Sure, they weren't married yet, but it was only the matter of a year at most before their wedding...whenever Alex finally decided on the right church. For the moment, living together was enough to keep them both happy. They'd even managed to find jobs near the beach. Sort of.

It was Alex's idea to invest in a private practice in a city with a high murder rate, insisting the challenges of clinical psychology were greatest in places like Santa Carla. As for Charley, well...he still wasn't sure why he'd pursued an English degree. Being his fiancee's personal secretary and transcriber wouldn't be so bad, while he actively tried to find a teaching job. Besides...it meant plenty of time to write his memoirs and disguise them as a fictional work.

"Do you ever regret choosing me?" Alex asked, watching the haze of the summer skyline as the sun had begun to descend and cast an orange-red glow about them.

"That's a silly question, Alex. I love you. You know that," he pecked her on the forehead and smirked, quickly looking back towards the road.

"What I wanna know is why you think setting up a practice before you've even had any real experience on the job, aside from your internship hours, is a good idea..." He trailed off, touching on a thought he'd had multiple times, and they'd rarely expanded on.

"I like the challenge, Charley. Plus, with that incident at the library still fresh on my record, not to mention breaking Peter out of that hospital with your psychiatrist's wallet in my person...god even knows how we managed to get out of jail after that one...finding a job without setting up my own practice would be the real problem. Even if they did find those body parts in Regine's hotel room, and evidence that she was just as much of a serial murderer as her brother..." She'd been practicing the explanation for quite some time, clearly. Her response wasn't filled with any sort of hurt feelings, or even irritation. Honestly, she was surprised Charley had taken so long to ask.

"Well then...I guess you put me in my place. You're right. I'm sorry for even bringing it up," he pecked her on the forehead again.

"Mister Brewster, if you don't pay attention to the road, we're going to get into a very nasty road accident," she playfully lectured, pinching Charley's arm.

"Ow! Okay, okay...I promise. I will not kiss you any-" he pecked her on the forehead again and looked back at the road, "-more."

Alex snuggled her head a bit more comfortably against Charley's shoulder and sighed.

"Starting a small practice as a Clinical Psychologist in a small town filled with troubled teenagers is far easier than dealing with vampires, anyway. So the hard part of our lives is behind us," she put a hand to her mouth and yawned sleepily. With the gentle purr of the car engine, and the relaxing warmth of her fiancee's fleece jacket...Alex felt like everything was right with the world. Together they could face anything.

* * *

 _'Victims in Santa Carla are often found with deep gauges in their throats, completely drained of blood. It is this author's suspicion that something more vicious than a mere serial killer is at work, my friends. I, Carl Kolchak, am more certain than ever that someone is bound to get to the bottom of it.'_

Peter rubbed at his eyes and set the garish magazine aside, crossing his hands over his stomach and leaning back in his chair. He was still attending therapy sessions, even several months after the events in which he'd killed Regine. Thank god the police found out she'd been a murderer as well, owing his hysteria on the set to a mental breakdown after he simply made an 'unpleasant discovery' on the evening of her party and hadn't been able to rationalize it properly. That was what Alex had told him to say, and it really was the simplest way to go about it.

But...when Peter glanced over at the trashy tabloid magazine he'd purchased on a whim when he'd seen the name of the city his friend Charley was moving to splashed across the title, a wave of weariness overwhelmed him. Surely the same thing couldn't happen a THIRD time. If so, Charley Brewster had to have truly angered the universe to deserve such terrible karma.

"You can either do something about it, Peter, or you can simply be a coward," he told himself, grabbing the magazine and rolling it up in his fists.

"Clearly something has to be done before that poor boy gets himself into trouble. I mean...they did invite me to visit when they're settled in..." He continued talking to himself, as if he were a character in a dreadful rip-off of a Shakespearean classic.

Peter glanced towards the window and squinted at the sunset. After he'd been officially released from the hospital, he'd made it a habit to keep an actual hunting kit prepared and by his front door at all times...so packing up and paying them an early visit wasn't entirely impossible. Still, he had three sessions with his therapist that week.

"Perhaps I'll sleep on it," he finally decided, tugging at his robe collar nervously. Peter may not be a complete coward anymore, but he also didn't want to go rushing out if there was no real reason to do so. He'd wait for Charley or Alex to give him a call. Again, he reminded himself...surely the same thing couldn't happen THREE times. Surely!

"...Surely..." he mumbled, his head dipping low as he begun to nod off. "Surely..." Peter kept repeating, like some sort of holy mantra, until he was finally sleeping fitfully with images of dreadful monsters dancing in his head.

* * *

"I'm really looking forward to seeing this place," Alex gushed, sliding out of the car and brushing the wrinkles out of her plaid skirt.

"Yeah, the guy who owns the place said he'd been planning on having his daughter and grand kids move in for a bit, but apparently she'd decided to give it one more go with her old man? I dunno. I didn't even ask, and he just went off on a tangent about his personal life," Charley explained, closing the car door behind him and crossing to the side to begin untying a knot in the ropes latching their luggage to the top of the car.

"We're only renting our room for a few months, though, until we find a real place of our own...right?" Alex asked, untying a knot on her own side.

"Relax, I've got this all handled. I've been doing the budgeting, and I'm going to make a few calls around town. If we don't start small, we're going to burn through that business loan before we've even got our feet on the ground," he replied, loosening the rope after he'd finally gotten the knot on his side undone.

It was only a matter of about ten or so minutes before they'd managed to get their luggage unloaded from the top of the car. There was more in the trunk, but they could easily make the trip back after they'd brought everything else inside.

"So, it should be just up this walkway..." Charley grabbed the larger two suitcases and hefted one over his shoulder, while he tucked one against his hip and marched in the direction of the cabin.

"You don't have to narrate everything for me, Mister Brewster. I'm a big girl," Alex replied in a fake huff, following close after.

"Oh, I do apologize, Miss Young, I was just trying to accomma-"

"CHARLEY!" Alex shouted, dropping her suitcases and shoving past him. At the porch of the cabin they'd been approaching, a grizzly older man lay unconscious.

"...Oh...no..." Charley mumbled, dropping his own luggage to the ground and frowning. It didn't look like their romantic move to the coast was going to be quite so romantic as he'd hoped.

"Is he dead?" Charley asked warily, rubbing at the hand that had been holding the larger suitcase.

Alex knelt by the old man's side and pressed two fingers to his neck, an expression of both concern and fear plastered on her face.


	2. Chapter 2: The Concert

Author's notes: At this point, I should give you a fair warning that there will be spoilers for both Fright Night 1+2 and Lost Boys. If you haven't seen any of these movies, I definitely suggest watching them. Not only because you'll have a better idea of the references here and won't have to experience spoilers, but...because they're awesome.

* * *

Alex frowned, swiftly pulling her hand back and looking up at Charley.

"He's-"

"Playing dead!" The old man exclaimed, popping up into a sitting position as fast as could be expected from someone his age. "By the sound of it, doing a damn good job too!" He chuckled, climbing to his feet and dusting off his trousers. He looked like a burnt-out hippy from a bygone era, and sounded like someone who'd spent his whole life drinking harsh hooch and puffing cigarettes by the armful.

"That wasn't very funny," Alex replied, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear and standing up in front of the old man so she could properly place her fists on her hips.

"We don't even know you, and you welcome guests by..." she practically sputtered, "...trying to scare the living daylights out of them?!" Alex had lost an awful lot of patience with people who played nasty tricks on her since she'd met that hairy Louie-guy who thought growing twice as much fur and threatening her in a library was the way to win a girl over.

The old man's eyes darted towards Charley and he pointed a thumb at Alex.

"Not much of a sense of humor, that one?" He asked, raising his eyebrows.

For Alex's part, she crossed her arms and shrugged. "I'm a doctor, sir, and I really don't appreciate those kinds of jokes."

Charley put an arm around Alex's waist and gave her a comforting squeeze. "It's okay, Alex, he's fine. You're fine. I'm fine. We're all fine." He glanced over at the old man and shook his head, "that _was_ in pretty bad taste, even if you are my uncle's friend."

Alex's eyebrow quirked and she gave Charley a questioning glance.

"...Well, how do you think I got us a room so cheap?" He shrugged, turning back towards the pathway where they'd dropped their luggage.

"I didn't mean to make such a fuss of things. I'm sorry if I scared ya, miss," the old man apologized to Alex with a note of genuine feeling in his voice.

"Well..." Alex waved a hand and uncrossed her arms, "...It's okay. I guess. But really, that's not a very good way to introduce yourself to people. What if I'd just gone ahead and called an ambulance instead of checking your pulse? You'd have an ER bill to deal with, first off, and-"

"EMS don't come out this far, missy," the old man interrupted shaking his head and smirking. "They don't see much point to it, ya see," he added cryptically turning towards the entrance to his cabin and yanking open a screen door.

"Get your things, and I'll give you the grand tour," he told her before stepping inside. Alex glanced back towards Charley, who looked like he was trying to carry ALL of the luggage, against his best judgment, and seemed to be having quite a tough time of it too, huddled like a hunch-backed Igor struggling with his burden.

Alex burst into a smile, laughing. "Charley Brewster, what is wrong with you?"

Charley wiggled his eyebrows back at her and smirked. He'd also put the sunglasses back on, and looked even sillier. Like the day she'd caught him bowling alone.

"What am I going to do with you?" She laughed.

* * *

"You've got a lovely..." Alex trailed off, plastering a fake smile on her face as she glanced around at various odd works of taxidermy, "...lovely place here. Really, you do..."

"Call me gramps, since you seem to have a tough time sayin' my name, missy," the old man rasped as he yanked open his refrigerator door and grabbed an ice cold root beer.

"Don't touch the second shelf, by the way. That's my good shelf." He popped open his bottle and took a deep gulp.

"Oh, don't worry, we don't plan to," Charley stepped up behind Alex. He'd finally managed to get the last of their luggage safely in their temporary bedroom. He'd also managed to trip over a raccoon footstool in the process, but the scrapes on his elbows and forehead were minimal.

"You'll want to clean that up if you plan on going out," the old man tipped his bottle in Charley's direction.

"Oh! Yes, I've read that they have concerts near the beach here on the weekends," Alex smiled, looking back at Charley. He was the most accident-prone man she'd ever met.

"Um...so, you stuff animals for a living...gramps?" Alex asked politely, turning back towards the old man and smiling again. This time it was a little more genuine. He didn't have the best manners in the world, but he did remind her of her own grandfather. Being curt and ill-tempered was a rite of passage for many older men.

"Stuff animals. That's a fine way to describe a man's passion. No, missy, I-"

"Alex." She corrected.

"What?"

"Alex. If you want me to call you gramps, I want you to call me by my name. Alex."

"Okay, Alex," gramps smirked at her. He liked this girl. "No, Alex, I don't stuff animals. I preserve the spark of personality and life that they may have had before they took their final breath. I remind people of the majesty of the wild and the domestic, and I ensure that others are left with the frozen memories of their beloved friends to comfort them in their old age. I do not stuff animals."

Charley grinned, crossing his arms and sidling up beside Alex. "You stole that line from my uncle, gramps,"

The old man raised his eyebrows. "Your uncle stole that line from ME, Charley. He may know how to stuff a moose, but originality was never one of that fool's skills."

"..." Alex looked at the old man and then back at Charley, who looked like he was at a loss for words. Rather than endure an awkward silence, she spoke up again, "you...you like root beer, then, huh?"

"Like it? I love it!" He paused. "I wasn't kidding about those cuts, boy. You want to clean them up if you plan on going out. It's going to be a long night in Santa Carla. Tourist season."

* * *

He was oiled from neck to navel, beefier than a double meat burrito, and quite a talented saxophone player. But the first two factors made Charley less appreciative of the performance than he might have been. For Alex's part, she didn't seem to mind too much. He frowned, putting an arm around his fiancee's shoulders and squeezing them just a little to remind her she had someone much better to look at right beside her.

Alex winked up at Charley and smirked. "Enjoying the show, Mister Brewster?"

Charley rolled his eyes, "yes, Miss Young. It's the best beach concert I've ever experienced."

"Do you want me to try and get you backstage?" Alex asked innocently, receiving a firm pinch on her shoulder.

"Yowch! Charley!"

Charley stuck out his tongue at Alex and she reached up to tweak his nose playfully.

* * *

In the distance, a young woman in a spangled skirt and lace tank top watched the couple's exchange. Her eyes astonished her, with the clarity at which she registered veins pumping life-giving blood beneath their skin. David told her tonight was the night she had to begin her hunt, and she desperately wanted to avoid it. To avoid becoming a full member of the gang. The family.

She swayed to the music, looking for all the world like she was having the time of her life. It was hard to really appreciate good music anymore. It was hard to appreciate anything, when she felt that gnawing hunger at the pit of her stomach.

Star didn't take her eyes off the couple. They simply looked too sweet together. Her heart gave a lurch when she remembered the feeling she'd gotten after first meeting David. When she was still innocent, she'd imagined they'd be like that together. Happy. Playful. Star looked down at the musician and her lips twitched into a quick frown. David was sure happy, but she wasn't. The whole 'family' was happier than Star even wanted to be. Not when she knew the day that she felt that way would also be the day she lost her soul.

Glancing back at the couple, Star was momentarily surprised to see the young man glancing in her direction. She smiled playfully and disappeared through the crowd. This would be a much easier hunt, if she knew he was the kind of guy who'd cheat on his girlfriend for a stranger at a concert.

* * *

Poor Charley. He'd only been trying to blink a bit of sand out of his eye. He hadn't once noticed the girl in the spangled skirt. After Regine, more than ever, he never looked at other women...it was too dangerous.

The rest of Star's gang weren't too far off, weaving through the crowd and pinching the derrieres of giggling groupies, dragging their nails along the necks of young men and women who'd taken too much of the 'good stuff' for one concert, laughing hysterically at the smell of fresh blood in the air. Only David noticed a stranger smell...the fragrance of someone who'd come close to the brink of the turn and gone back. He looked around, trying to find the trail, but struggling. It was too faint. He had no idea that his little Star seemed to have picked the person out in the crowd without even knowing...

A grin spread across his face. "Boys, pretty soon I think we're going to have a bit of fun."


	3. Chapter 3: Comic Shop

Charley sighed, wrapping his arms around Alex's stomach and placing his head on her shoulder. She was soft, and wonderful, and frankly distracting...so he was grateful for that. He could almost enjoy the concert, if Alex was distracting enough.

"Charley, we are in public. Hugging is fine, kissing me a few times is fine, but you had better start move your hands south, buster," she eyed Charley who guiltily took his arms away and grinned.

"Alex, the moon is full tonight. The beach is beautiful...the music is romantic. As a man genuinely in love with the woman who will some day be my wife, I simply couldn't help myself." He apologized, half-heartedly. He knew he wasn't fooling her.

"...Charley, let's get out of here,"

"...Really? Now?!" He looked around giddily, for spontaneous moments like this with Alex came around rarely.

"...I'm tired. I have a headache. Not because I want you to jump my bones," she shook her head and took his hand.

"Besides, I want to check out a few of the shops on the boardwalk before we call it a night, and I'm sure they won't be open much longer," she added, noting a look of disappointment dawn on Charley's features. Alex rolled her eyes and began to weave through the crowd. Sometimes he was like a little boy with his little pouts when he had to keep his hands to himself. It was kind of cute.

* * *

The lights of the boardwalk bled yellow and red, as David and the boys sailed through the air. Black leather against the skyline with bits of shining jewelry, they went unseen by the drunk and the high, the distracted and everyone in-between. Those who knew of the monsters in Santa Carla did everything they could to ignore reality. This was how they thrived, and this was why they stayed there.

"David, man, why are you going so fast?" Marco called out, slightly lower than the leader, low enough to let his right hand skim through a tendril of fog.

"Can't you smell it Marco?" David called, exhilarated. Very rarely did anything but the thrill of the hunt and the ecstasy of the kill rile him up like this. Even Dwayne, ever silent and pensive, was surprised.

"What, Marco's breath? I think everyone within 5 miles can smell it!" Paul crowed, dodging away from the smallest gang member (next to Laddie who walked on the boardwalk down below beside Star). Marco was ready to give him a swift punch to the jaw when a quick raised eyebrow from David settled him.

"When I find that person, you'll know what I'm talking about..." David laughed, tossing his head in the air and howling into the night. His cries were carried away by the wind, as the others joined in, only too happy to act just as wild and beastly as their leader. Something fun was about to happen, and they all knew it.

"I've got to tell Max..." David thought, sinking below the fog and descending towards a small electronics store on the boardwalk. He was so excited, he almost forgot to sheath his fangs and hide his vampiric face. Not that he wouldn't kill anyone who saw him, anyway.

* * *

"Charley, quit being silly, we can't spend the whole night in a comic shop! There's dozens of other places to go!" Alex protested, plucking at her fiancee's sleeves as he circled a small shelf of disorganized magazines and cartoons.

"Hold on a minute, just give me one more minute..." Charley held up a finger, distracted by the grimacing face of a slime-covered skull. He grinned, snatching up the comic and flipping through the pages. Even if he'd faced some pretty gruesome horrors that made the printed page pale in comparison, Charley couldn't help the fact that he was still a die-hard fan at heart of anything gruesome onscreen or in a book.

"Charley Brewster, I'm going to leave you here if you don't put that comic down and come with me," Alex insisted. She wasn't being unreasonable. They'd been there for half an hour, and he still didn't look like he was ready to make a purchase. What kind of man in his mid-twenties was this obsessed with cartoons? She sighed and threw her hands in the air when her threat didn't elicit an immediate response.

"Okay, fine, have it your way. I'm going to go check out a few other places, and I guess I'll come back for you later," Alex spun on her heel and headed out. She wasn't mad. She was a little amused...maybe even irritated. But knowing that Charley loved her enough not only to deny the thirst of the undead once upon a time, but also become her personal secretary was enough to keep Alex from ever getting truly upset with him. Still...sometimes it seemed like his morbid fascination with horror was just going to invite trouble back into their lives. Like he was actively seeking it out.

As she headed out the door with her hands firmly tucked into Charley's jacket pockets (because she'd taken his jacket half an hour ago at the concert after it had started to get too cold), he was left practically drooling over the story of an old woman who looked like a bird and had a husband plotting her gruesome murder even as Charley turned the page.

He didn't immediately notice the owl-eyed teenagers watching him a few shelves over, stocking and glaring at the same time. They were dressed like they had just gotten back from a tour in Vietnam, more than a decade and a half too late. One of them had longer hair and a bandanna wrapped tightly about his forehead, while the other's hair was closely-cropped and darker.

The boy with the longer hair nodded to the other in silent communication, dropping a comic onto the shelf and dodging around it to get closer to Charley. They did this to all of their customers, so it was a wonder they had any, as they ambushed the distracted man.

When he reached a page filled with orange flames and the vengeful spirit of the bird-woman, Charley nearly jumped. The boys were standing directly in front of him, glaring.

"Look, I was going to buy it, I just wanted to finish this one story..." Charley began to fish in his jeans pocket for a couple of dollars, sheepish now that he'd been caught in the act of shelf-shopping. Even if it was by two irate-looking kids.

"We were just scoping your civilian wardrobe," the one with longer hair growled.

Charley looked down at his jeans and button-up black shirt, then back at the boy, terribly confused.

"Uh...Thanks? Look, kid, I'm buying the comic, okay?" Charley counted out a few dollars, glancing at the price on the cover (and immediately regretting even grabbing off the shelf.) 5 dollars for something that used to cost 50 cents once upon a time. Talk about inflation!

"You're a real fashion victim," the other boy added in, crossing his arms and stepping up beside Charley.

He frowned, slapping his money into the hands of the other boy. "You really need to learn how to talk to customers." He shook his head, turning to leave.

"Where are you from?" the short-haired boy followed Charley towards the door, which gave him pause.

"Somewhere I'm beginning to regret leaving. What the hell is wrong with you two?" He had a lot of patience, really...he did. Charley's best friend in high school was one of the most annoying teenagers in history, and very likely descended from a long line of hyenas...but even Charley had his limits.

The long-haired boy snorted and shook his head. "Yeah, you sure aren't from around here. Otherwise you wouldn't walk around at night like that," he waved his hand at Charley, smirking.

"Like that? Like what?! Are you both on drugs? Jesus, of all the comic shops I walked into..." Charley tried to step around the other boy, but the teenager quickly stepped in the way. He should have left with Alex when he had the chance.

The boy with the longer hair approached Charley, and shoved a comic into his hands to pair with the one he'd just bought.

"Take this," he advised, growling. Was the kid trying to be intimidating? Charley rolled his eyes, before looking down at the comic in his hand and dropping it like he'd been scalded.

"No, no thanks. Thank you, but no thanks. I don't like horror comics." He paused at the questioning look he received from both boys, when they glanced at the one he'd just bought. "I mean vampire...I don't like vampire horror comics."

The boy with the shorter hair sneered, while the other one spoke "you'll like this one, mister black-shirt...it may save your life one day." 'Mister black-shirt'? What kind of insult...wait a minute...what did he just say after that?

Charley's heart rate immediately kicked into overdrive. "OH GOD NO!" He panicked, thinking back to Jerry and Regine, and Louie...and the quiet chick who looked like a dude but stalked people on roller skates...the one who ate bugs by the gallon and had the insides to prove it...Billy, the slime-monster...and then he shook his head, feigning a smirk. "I don't believe in vampires."

Just then, near the entrance to the shop, a ruckus was kicked up and a dirty-looking couple snatched a comic from an unguarded shelf. For the moment, it was enough of a distraction to send both boys tearing after them yelling.

Charley put a hand to his chest to calm himself. The same thing couldn't happen three times...it just couldn't. Besides, those boys were clearly just trying to make another sale. He frowned and stepped towards the exit to go find Alex. He really should start listening to her more...grown men didn't hang around comic shops to get hassled by teenagers going through rough puberties.


	4. Chapter 4: Meeting Max

Alex tugged Charley's jacket tightly to her frame and zipped it up. The temperature was quickly beginning to drop outside, and she felt a small pang of guilt that when Charley was finally done with his little comic shop, he'd probably be freezing when he came searching for her. Then again, maybe he deserved to be punished...just a _little._

As she slipped further down the sparkling boardwalk, she couldn't help but wonder who dressed a majority of the teenagers (and even adults) milling about. Alex privately hoped that when the 80s came to a close, so would the fashion. She'd never been much for neon-colored hair or spiked collars. It just seemed like people were dressing themselves up like show dogs to grab unneeded attention. Reflections of something deeply psychological, which she supposed would also be a good indicator for the sorts of patients she'd meet as she set up her practice in Santa Carla. She also couldn't help but wonder what Peter would think of all this, as proper and old-fashioned as he made himself out to be. Every she went out with Charley and Peter to chat about this or that, making sure each of them was still holding it together after what they'd been through, the subject of Peter's distaste for modern culture and horror became a major element of their conversation.

"Mommy!" A sudden child's wail interrupted Alex's thoughts, and she turned at the corner of a swimsuit shop to spot a little boy rubbing his eyes and sobbing while multiple people passed him without so much as a second glance. She strode quickly towards him, pausing for a moment to wonder what on earth was wrong with everyone else, that they'd just ignore a little boy clearly in distress.

"Are you okay?" Alex knelt down, placing her hands on the child's shoulders as a gesture of comfort.

The little boy huffed and let his hands fall to his sides. "I can't find my mom."

"What's your name?"

"Terry..."

Well, we'll find her together, okay Terry?" Alex smiled, standing up and holding out a hand for the boy to take. She glanced around, and noticed an electronics store right in front of her with the door wide open and a pleasant-enough clerk standing at the counter.

"Excuse me," Alex called to the man and went into the store. He looked about her father's age, and his open smile was a little too friendly, but she shrugged it a way and pushed on, "I was wondering if you could help us find-"

"Terry!" A voice shouted from behind, and Alex turned around to see a woman with frizzy brown hair rushing towards them.

"Oh thank god, I was so worried! How many times have I told you not to wonder off like that?" The woman chided, taking the child in her arms and smiling politely at Alex. "Thank you, I'm sorry...he's always getting lost..." And before they could exchange another glance, the woman and the boy were gone back on the boardwalk and well away from Alex. She blinked several times and turned back towards the man at the counter.

"Okay, well, I guess...everything's okay. Sorry to bother you."

"Oh, that's quite alright. I completely understand. Lots of kids are always getting lost out here. If more people were like you, I'm sure there'd be a lot less frightened parents in Santa Carla."

Alex smile faintly, brushing some hair away from her face. He was polite, and he'd hardly said more than a couple of sentences to her, but...something was off about him. Perhaps she was just projecting...something. New place, new people, and still unsure of what she was going to do next in order to get her practice set up. Everybody would probably seem a little 'off' to her until she was confident. Alex's rational mind pushed away her initial reaction to him, and she forced herself to stay there and have a polite conversation, since there really wasn't much else to do until Charley finished his little exploration of the comic shop.

"Yes, I've read about Santa Carla. The statistics are alarming...I can't imagine how anybody feels safe living here," she licked her lips and smiled again. This time it wasn't as faint or forced.

The man nodded, delivering another equally pleasant smile. But then a group of strange figures walked into the building and began to circle the shop, and he was momentarily distracted. Alex glanced over at them and raised her eyebrows. Four of them, maybe only a few years younger than her and Charley. Dressed in leather and metal, clearly they were more than a little invested in the rock scene. She privately wondered how often they washed their hair, though the one at the head of the group looked like he teased his and styled it every hour on the hour, as perfectly pointed as his pale blonde spikes were.

" _God, I'm so glad I'm not in high school anymore..."_ Alex privately thought, looking down at her much more reserved wardrobe. Not that she'd ever gone through a radical fashion phase in her own personal life, but if she was 16...she suspected she might be a little bit more interested in them than she currently was.

* * *

" _Max,"_ David whispered in his master's thoughts, communicating in that special way only they could through the link in their blood.

" _I'm busy, David. What do you need?"_ Max replied, a little irritated that the boys were bothering him while he was pre-occupied with the first motherly woman he'd met in Santa Carla in over 20 years. Even if she did look like she could be his daughter, were he still human.

" _There's someone interesting on the boardwalk tonight. I could smell it, but couldn't find him."_

" _David, there are plenty of interesting people on the boardwalk. This whole damned city has people who live their lives trying to be nothing but interesting. What's your point?"_ Max's subtle irritation was clear.

" _It was someone who almost became one of us, Max. Someone who turned back at the last moment...I can smell it on them."_

" _David, I'm busy. Do whatever it is you want with whoever it is, just don't make too much of a mess. You might have a new mother soon, and I don't want to be distracted."_

Throughout their little mental discussion, all Alex saw was the look of anger on the store-keeper's face, and the mild amusement of the boy with the spiked hair as he glanced over at her.

"I thought I told you not to come in here anymore," the older man warned.

Wordlessly, the group of leather-clad men slipped out of the store, each and every one giving her a look that was almost enough to get a good slap, but not quite there yet. Alex frowned and glanced back at the storekeeper, wondering how often he'd had to deal with that kind of crowd, as close as his business was to the 'scene' in Santa Carla.

"Wild kids," the storekeeper shook his head, watching them leave.

Alex shrugged, crossing her arms. "They're probably just going through a phase. It's not uncommon."

"You've got a generous nature. I like that in a person...my name's Max," the man held out his hand to Alex. She uncrossed her arms and shook it politely.

"Alex."

"So, what can I help you find tonight? We've got it all, the best selection in Santa Carla."

"Oh, I don't need a tape or anything, I just need a -"

"-a job?" Max supplied.

"...no. I'm actually just checking out the area, and looking for a few possible leasing spaces. I'm hoping to open up a small practice, you see. I'm a clinical psychologist."

"Ah. Well, I think I know a few places around here. There's always someone coming or going here." Max patted his pockets on his coat, and pulled out a card, handing it out to Alex.

"Give me a call, I'm sure I could give you a few good suggestions."

* * *

Charley glanced down at the comic in his hands and frowned. How the heck did he let those kids bully him into buying something he was only half-interested in? Him? Charley Brewster? A guy who'd taken on not one, not two, not three, but (if you counted Louie) four vampires! Not to mention their sidekicks...he sighed outwardly, running a hand through his hair as he headed towards the car. Alex would probably be showing up there soon, since it would only make sense to meet where they parked that night.

By the time he'd reached it, Alex was nowhere to be seen. Charley rubbed his arms and leaned against the hood of the car, hoping she'd at least show up soon. Otherwise he'd just make another round on the boardwalk and try to find her himself.

Glancing towards a group of what he could only assume were 'bad boys' getting astride their motorcycles, Charley grinned in relief when he saw Alex approaching from behind them. She looked overjoyed, and he could only assume she'd found out some good news on one place or another they could check out for a possible office.

She was beautiful, with her long hair flying in the wind, wrapped in his jacket, and sporting a plaid skirt that clashed cutely with the ensemble. How did he get so lucky, to have a fiancee who was not only beautiful, but smart too?

* * *

Star climbed onto David's bike behind him, and wrapped her arms about his waist. She looked over towards a young man leaning against his car hood and grinning unabashedly in her direction. She blinked several times in surprise. He was the man from the concert...had he followed her? She glanced back at David, who was also looking in the man's direction. He had a terrifying look in his eye, one she recognized from the night he'd given her a drink from that damned bottle she wished she'd never seen.

"David, why are you looking at him like that?" She whispered in his ear as he gunned his engine and began to ride off with the others close behind.

"No reason, Star. No reason at all..." David lied, glancing back at her over his shoulder as she gripped his waist tighter.


	5. Chapter 5: The Car

_Author's note:_ It may be a few days before I update again. My grandmother died yesterday (very unexpectedly), so I'll be at her funeral this weekend.

* * *

 _Peter patted his pocket, frantically searching for the crucifix he'd been carrying. By now, he was certain none could counter the sheer force of fate he'd imbibed the relic with when wielded against any manner of undead fiend. But no matter how hard he searched, how fast he ran, he gained no distance in the parking lot...and the crucifix was nowhere to be found. He could hear them fluttering up ahead, monstrous things with warped expressions hardly even resembling the humans they might have been once upon a time. He had to stop them...he had to stop them from hurting Charley and Alex. But he didn't reach their convertible, didn't find the cross. He was forced to watch in horror as first Charley, and then Alex were pulled from their car after the monsters tore away the roof of the vehicle like shreds of tissue paper._

 _Gasping in horror, Peter tried to hide his face from the vampires as they feasted on his closest friends, and prepared to descend towards him..._

Peter jumped up from his chair, gripping the crucifix in his robe pocket with one hand, and the area above his pounding heart with the other. His nightmare had been so vivid, he could almost smell the dirt of the grave on the beasts who'd tried to kill him. For a moment, he had to settle himself and catch his breath. He was drenched in sweat, and momentarily wondered if perhaps he was getting too old for these sorts of nightmares. A man his age could only handle so much terror in one lifetime, no matter how gracefully he fancied he was coming into his twilight years.

Pulling the crucifix from his pocket and kissing it, Peter glanced towards his kit still nestled comfortably by the front door. A beacon of the career he'd led, and the real nightmares he'd fought alongside Charley and Alex. Had the dream meant anything, he wondered? Perhaps something prophetic? His therapist would disagree...but then again, Charley's therapist had almost killed Alex, hadn't he?

Taking a deep breath, Peter Vincent, the great vampire killer on screen and in person, stood up from his chair and placed his crucifix around his neck. "Forewarned is fore-armed!" He intoned, bolstering his courage. Whether he was letting his bad dreams, his post traumatic stress disorder, or his general paranoia get the best of him...he didn't care. He would _not_ wait until he found a convenient mirror this time, he would find Charley and Alex...and make sure Santa Carla was vampire-free. It was the least he could do, given that his own disbelief in the very idea of vampires at all had nearly gotten Charley killed on two occasions. Paranoia or not, there would not be a third one. Peter Vincent was going to Santa Carla _today._

* * *

Sunlight glared through their bedroom window, and Charley had half a mind to draw the shades so violently that they fell to the ground. But he didn't, because he didn't want to pay for them.

"Charley," Alex leant on his chest, kissing his collarbone directly above the top button of his red silk pajamas. They were such a cute couple, their sleep clothes matched, so the silk rubbing against silk felt quite romantic in the early morning hour.

"Mmmm?" Charley groaned, keeping his eyes closed and reaching up to scratch at the small silver scar on his neck. He'd gotten it from shaving back around the time they'd dealt with Regine, and unfortunately it didn't seem to want to fade after the multiple times the woman had worried the little wound.

"It's time to get up, Charley," Alex prodded him, leaning her full weight onto his chest to drive her point home. He smirked, eyes still closed, and wrapped an arm around her back.

"I'm not ready to wake up, Miss Young," he protested softly.

"Ah, but we have a big day ahead of us, Mister Brewster."

"Do we?"

Alex tweaked a few small hairs on Charley's chest, which caused him to flinch and open his eyes.

"Ow!"

"Are you ready to wake up now? Hm?" She raised an eyebrow, a vague threat twinkling in her expression.

"Okay, I'm up. I'm up!" He submitted, gently rolling out from under Alex and removing his arm from around her. She sat up and propped her chin on her hands, watching him cross towards the window and pull open the shades.

"It gets bright around here pretty early, doesn't it?" Charley observed, looking back at her and squinting slightly as his vision adjusted to the light.

"Gets dark here early, too." Alex replied, sighing and pushing herself off of the bed with a long and lazy stretch of her arms.

"Did you have any bad dreams last night, Charley?" Alex asked him as she crossed towards their shared closet and drew it open to start filtering through her clothes. She had to pick something mildly professional-looking, if she was going to be talking to leasing agents that afternoon.

"Eh, some good, some bad. They're all a blur," he replied, scratching his stomach and yawning slightly.

"Why do you ask?"

Alex shrugged, grabbing a nice sweater and crème-colored blazer to match a pair of slim trousers, tossing them on the bed and looking back at him. "Because you were scratching at your neck all night. You only do that when you have bad dreams, Charley."

He shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you, it's itchy. Hey, after we check out the local agents, do you want to go to the boardwalk?"

Alex frowned slightly at the change of topic, and shrugged. "Why?"

"...No reason. Bought a comic...didn't really like it. I was thinking maybe you could return it for me."

"Why can't you do it yourself?"

"...Because they know my face."

"I've returned plenty of things to stores where clerks knew my face, Charley. That's silly. Why don't you want them to see you?" Alex tilted her head, moderately confused.

"...Look, Alex, these kids are tough salesmen. If I don't have you return that comic for me, they'll just end up talking me into buying another one. And another. Before you know it, we'll be out of money and living on the streets with nothing to show for it but an armful of issues of Tales From the Crypt..."

"Charley Brewster, did you let a couple of little boys bully you?" Alex smirked, vaguely recalling two kids working at the comic shop who looked an awful lot like they spent most of their time emulating Rambo.

"They didn't bully me!" Charley protested weakly.

"This is why you're not allowed to answer the door, Charley Brewster. You're gullible." Alex shook her head, grabbing a pair of hose and undergarments to go with her outfit before commencing the selection of Charley's outfit for him.

"I'm not gullible!"

"Look, I'll return the comic for you, but sooner or later you've got to grow a spine, Charley."

"...I fought inhuman monsters from beyond the grave, Alex. I have a spine."

"Apparently not when it comes to teenagers, you don't."

Charley grinned sheepishly, eyeing the clothing Alex was picking out for him. "Hey...do I still have that leather jacket?" Maybe he'd be able to return the comic himself if he looked a bit tougher.

Alex wrinkled her nose and frowned. "The one with all the cracks on it, and the peeling fabric? No, I threw it away."

"Alex!"

"You never wore it!"

As far as fights went, this one turned out to be a pretty mild one, but it was enough of a nudge for Charley to decide he had to buy a new jacket. Even if Alex did hate leather on him.

"Then I'll just buy a new one. Maybe I'll even get one with some extra zippers on it, and some matching black boots..."

"Why don't you just get an earring, too?" Alex snapped, frowning.

"Maybe I will," Charley threatened with a very stern expression...which quickly melted into a smirk as he pulled her into a quick hug. "Okay, no jewelry. But stop throwing my clothes away." He paused, remembering something the boy from the comic shop had said. "I end up looking like a 'fashion victim' with the stuff you leave in my closet."

"You don't need my help with that..." Alex teased, kissing Charley on the tip of his nose and leaning back with a smirk on her face. "But you're my 'fashion victim', Charley."

* * *

"Isn't she a beauty?" Gramps asked, patting the hood of his baby blue Farlane. His pride and joy. A piece of machinery that looked incredibly out-of-place at the home of an ancient taxidermist with unique landscaping choices. It was far too clean, far too pretty, and far too nice to belong to a man like himself.

"It's lovely, isn't it, Charley?" Alex nudged her fiancee, and he wholeheartedly agreed, admiring the freshly-polished paint job.

"Don't drive it too often, though. Don't want it to get scratched. Also don't like driving into town that much," Gramps explained, rubbing the hood of the car affectionately, as if it were some sort of pet.

"Well, clearly you take good care of it...her..." Alex remarked politely tucking her hands into her pockets and glancing back at Charley's much worse-for-wear vehicle. There was a dent near the passenger door, a slight crack in the windshield, and several scratches lined the trunk...all-in-all, the night to this car's day.

"Listen, you ever need a ride in this thing, I only have one rule. Refill the gas tank after you use it," Gramps advised, stepping away from his car and pulling the garage door closed.

"Uh, don't worry...I've got my own ride..." Charley replied, kneeling down to speak through the crack as the door was lowered. Gramps didn't reply, but he didn't miss the man's dismissive grimace at Charley's ride. Taxidermist hippy with a pot plant growing in his kitchen or not, he was clearly a car snob.

"So..." Charley looked back at Alex, at a loss for words after their little exchange with the old man. "You got a list of places you wanted to look at today?" He asked, putting an arm around her shoulder and leading her towards his car in the front yard.

"Actually, yes! There's a place near the boardwalk I was thinking about. I met this man last night named Max, and he was incredibly helpful. Said I could lease this place at a steal. It's prime real estate, apparently...but the catch is, the last guy who ran a business there was murdered..."

Charley wrinkled his nose distastefully.

"But there are so many people who've been murdered in Santa Carla, Charley..." Alex explained clinically, hardly batting her eyes at the idea of renting an office space where someone got killed. Sometimes he wondered if she'd always been so cold-heartedly realistic, or whether their run in with vampires had made her this way. Charley grinned and shook his head.

"We'll save that place for last, since we're going to the boardwalk later anyway. Remember that comic I wanted you to return for me?" Most men would feel emasculated at having their girlfriends do their fighting for them, but he was unashamed. He really didn't want to deal with those kids a second time. They were a little too weird for Charley's taste.


	6. Chapter 6: All Sales are Final

Edgar shuffled through a box of donated comics, sorting them by the ones that would sell, and the ones that would have to sit in the discount section. Meanwhile, Alan leaned against the entryway to their shop, arms crossed, and frowning.

"Hey, are you gonna help me or what?" Edgar growled at his brother from across the store. He wasn't growling threateningly, that was just how his voice sounded.

"We got a customer coming," Alan replied, standing away from the entrance and uncrossing his arms.

"This early?" Edgar asked, surprised. It wasn't even 12 yet. Maybe it was the dude from last night with the preppy clothes and snippy attitude.

"Yeah, she's pretty hot." Alan observed, walking towards a small shelf they kept dozens of vampire comics ready and waiting to hand out. It wasn't cheap just giving out some of their inventory to every passerby who came in to browse, but they both liked to imagine they were doing their part to keep Santa Carla safe. Not to mention, it was great advertising if their customers just so happened to actually run into creatures of the night. At least the comics told them what to look for.

"Well, just remember, this is a business...not a-" Edgar was cut off short when she arrived. Long dirty blonde hair, a lightness to her step, long eyelashes, and legs that probably went to heaven beneath those pants...

"Um, excuse me...my fiancee bought a comic here last night by mistake, and I'd like to return it," she cut off Edgar's inappropriate musings. He narrowed his eyes, and gave her one more once-over before growling in response, "no refunds."

Alex blinked several times in surprise, before slowly smiling over at Alan, "you don't understand. Charley is terrible with money, and he really wasn't thinking when he bought this comic. We just moved here, and we really can't afford to-"

"No refunds," Alan replied, backing up his brother. He spread his legs and crossed his arms in a determined stance. The polite smile from Alex's mouth faded to be replaced by a small frown.

"Look, I don't want to argue with you. I realize it was only three dollars, but this is a principle issue now. _You_ manipulated him into buying this comic. You intimidated him, and frankly you're being pretty rude right now. How do you expect to run a business if aren't willing to-"

"Listen missy," Edgar slammed his box down and crossed towards Alex, glaring. "This is just our day job, you understand? We run this place for our folks so they can make ends meet, so we can't just sell you a comic and take it back. We aren't a lending library. Besides that, we've got a much more noble purpose than just selling comics to spineless wimps." He sneered.

"What did you just call him?" Alex's eyebrows raised, she looked prepared to give him an earful.

"There are vampires in Santa Carla, and your boyfriend wasn't willing to listen. The way we see it, he paid the price." Alan cut in.

"..." Alex was dumbfounded. She couldn't even really argue that vampires didn't exist, but these kids were clearly _nuts._ "Look, I just want our money back," Alex shoved the comic into Edgar's chest and very firmly refused to walk away.

Before Edgar could go further, Alan stepped in with a fake smile and pressed another comic into Alex's hand.

"We're not giving you your money back, but take this instead. It could save your life," he informed her.

Alex glanced down at the comic in her hand and rolled her eyes. It really wasn't worth her time to get into a fight with a couple of kids, so she simply gave them a clipped smile and spun on her heel to leave, with a gory-looking comic with the title 'Vampires Everywhere' in bloody letters scrawled across the top, wrapped tightly in her right hand. At least she'd managed to make an exchange...though she wasn't trying to make one. Maybe Charley would like this comic better, and that would be the end of it.

"If you need any help, call us. Our number's on the back." Edgar remarked behind her as she left. Alex sighed, and pondered whether these boys needed some psychological evaluation. Maybe she'd give them her number later too, after she had an office set up.

* * *

"Oh really, my dear friend, I highly doubt that is possible!" Peter protested, crossing his arms as he spoke with the old man at the gas station.

"One does not merely fall asleep driving between two Joshua trees, and find themselves passing through the gates of hell! You, sir, are far madder than I have ever been accused of." He rubbed a hand between his eyebrows, trying to relieve the building tension in his head. "But thank you very much for repairing my car."

It would seem his trip to Santa Carla was taking Peter down one wrong road after another. Already, he'd discovered he was going in quite the wrong direction, and it had only taken him a split second to doze off at the wheel before he found himself being pursued by a stark-raving mad officer hell-bent on rear ending him. If he hadn't managed to find himself at this gas station in time, he really didn't know what he was going to do.

"If you're trying to get to Santa Carla, just stay awake this time. That's all you have to do, if you don't want Hellcop on your trail. And don't pick up any young women either..." The old man warned, wiping the last bit of oil from his hands with a tarnished rag.

"I assure you, I have no attention of sleeping or aiding a hitch-hiker, thank you very much...and if it pleases you that much, I'll just take the interstate as you suggested earlier." Peter hated the freeway, but it looked like he was going to have better luck getting to Santa Carla if he gave in and took it.

* * *

"...Stop looking at me like that," Alex glanced over at Charley as she spoke, mildly flustered. He looked far too smug for his own good.

"Like what?" He asked innocently, reaching over and snatching a fry from her plate and grinning as he popped it into his mouth. They were eating dinner at a burger shack near the edge of the boardwalk, and the sky was quickly turning a strange hue of purple and red. Charley had been giving her his self-satisfied smirks all day, even when they were negotiating their possible lease with the Realtor Max had recommended to them.

"I'm not playing this game, Charley. You know how you're looking at me. They wouldn't take refunds...I thought you'd like that comic." She lied through her teeth. Alex knew damn well neither she nor Charley wanted anything to do with a comic, a movie, a book, or even a small figurine of a vampire. Not after what they'd had to deal with back in college.

"You don't have to lie, Alex. They tried to get me to take it too...I guess we just couldn't avoid it." He paused. "You're just as bad at letting teenagers take advantage of you as I am, there's nothing wrong with that..."

He stood up and leaned over the table to kiss her, and received a playful peck on the forehead instead.

"I hate when you're right," Alex gave him a lopsided smile and popped a fry into her mouth.

Charley looked out over the railing by their table. The burger shack had a long cement patio encircling it, and metal guardrails to keep people from falling over the side in a ten-foot plunge over the sand. It was a bit cheap, but romantic enough for a couple like them to spend their evening.

"Do you want to go for a swim later?" He asked, nudging her as he tried to sneak another fry off her plate before Alex swiftly grabbed his hand and stole it back from him.

"It's way too cold for that, Charley. Maybe when it gets a bit warmer...I'd rather not catch my death," she rubbed her arms to illustrate her point, and Charley reluctantly passed her his jacket. She'd gotten a coffee stain on hers and had been forced to leave it in the car after their chat with the Realtor.

"You need to get your own jacket, Alex. Maybe two of them...keep them in the car at all times, so you always have a back-up." He advised, crumpling up his burger wrapper and tossing it into a metal trashcan nearby. Or trying to. It just barely missed the rim, and he reluctantly had to drag himself away from the table to pick it up and place it properly in the trash.

"But yours is so nice," Alex teased, sliding Charley's jacket on and zipping it up. She noted the crucifix in his front pocket and smirked privately to herself. She doubted he was ever going to completely overcome that little fear that something wasn't going to sneak out of the dark and try to kill him again. But she wasn't going to press him on it. Charley would leave the crucifix at home, and the nightmares would go away on their own. He just needed more time.

"Hey, you should really thank that Max guy for helping us out. The place really was way better than I expected," Charley tossed over his shoulder as he wiped the grease from the wrapper off his hands with a small paper napkin he grabbed from another nearby table.

"That's a good idea. You know, I don't think we would have found that place if I hadn't met him. Really, it wasn't even being advertised in the paper!" Alex exclaimed, still shocked they'd managed to find the perfect place in just one day.

"While you do that...I'm just going to look around, kinda get a feel for this place a bit better," Charley added. She didn't need to know he was probably going to spend more than he needed to on a new leather jacket to replace the one she'd thrown out. He was a grown man, after all, and he could pick his own clothes once in awhile...

"...Okay, I guess we can meet up at the car later..." Alex replied slowly, fingering the keys in Charley's jacket pocket opposite the one with the crucifix. She had the sneaking suspicion he was planning on doing something stupid.

"Great!" Charley clapped his hands together and rubbed them, sliding back towards Alex and wrapping his arms around her waist.

"I love you, you know that?" He asked, kissing her cheek.

"...Are you about to do something stupid, Charley?" She responded with her own question, not buying the sweet act.

He shrugged in reply and kissed her cheek again.

* * *

" _She's planning to get married soon, so I want you to find her fiancee and deal with him. Quietly. His name is Brewster. When you're done, let me know. Then I'll be ready to comfort her, and in no time you boys will finally have a mother."_

The thought of Max's last words before they'd parted ways the night before rang in David's ears as he awoke to the darkness of the cave. Releasing his clawed toes from the rusted bar he hung from, he glided swiftly down to the ground. The boys were beginning to stir nearby, and they were ravenous. That couple in their car from a few days ago hadn't been nearly satisfying enough. The Lost Boys needed to feast soon, or they'd all be in a foul temper.

"We're going to hunt him down tonight, boys," David called up to his 'brothers', his pack. They were eager to welcome a new member to the fold, perhaps someone who'd be quicker to the bite than Starr had been. None of them was very good at hiding their disappointment each evening they awoke to find she still hadn't dined, still hadn't taken to sleeping in their neck of the cave. Especially Dwayne, who knew that once Star finally completed the change, Laddie would soon follow.

"Then we'll deal with that pest Max was talking about, huh?" Marco called out, gliding down to join David.

"Alright!" Paul crowed, descending quickly and taking a playful swipe at Marco's head. But he was ready for him, and quickly reached up to smack Paul in the face, causing the other vampire to land somewhat less gracefully on his rear.

"Jeeze, I was just messing with ya!" Paul snapped, pushing himself to his feet and dusting himself off while the others snickered. Meanwhile, Dwayne calmly took his place beside David and glanced towards the exit leading out of the cave.

"Is Star coming tonight?" Marco asked David, nudging his shoulder.

"After last night, she'll probably want to bitch about staying in so she doesn't 'hurt anybody'," Paul remarked, stretching his arms above his head.

"Then we'll just have to lie to her..." David trailed off. If she came, maybe she could find the guy from last night. Woo him, and help them lead the hopeful new member of their brotherhood back to the cave..."We'll tell her she has to make him her first kill," David grinned as the inspiration hit him. It was brilliant.

* * *

Author's note: Couldn't help myself. Had to throw in a 'Highway to Hell' reference. Peter's character lends himself to a lot of horror film references, somehow, as blindly as he seems to stumble through things. Plus, the protagonist in that movie is called Charlie too...:p


	7. Chapter 7: Peter meets Gramps

Author's note: Taking my time to write this fic, because I don't want to rush it. Also been working on another series that's pretty much been taking up most of my attention. The town Peter stumbled into this time is a subtle reference to 'Vamp'. Would have mentioned the albino gang leader, but realized he could be confused for David XD.

* * *

"Mmmm...Smell this one, Charley!" Alex stood at the entrance of a boutique shop on the boardwalk, spritzing her wrist with a rose-scented perfume. The fragrance soaked in, seeping around her sleeve as she'd forgotten to roll it up. "Darn," she cursed, waving her arm about to try and dry it off.

"You don't need body sprays to smell good, Alex," he replied, pulling her in close for a quick kiss on the forehead.

"Charley, people are watching!" Alex laughed, shoving him away and re-capping the perfume. At first it smelled pleasant, but the drying scent was a little too close to 'eau de old lady' for comfort.

"If I can't kiss my future wife whenever I want, then what's the point of even getting married? Besides...there's things we did under that blanket on campus that would make even Peter blush...and the guy's ancient," he pouted.

Alex shook her head, rolling her eyes. "Listen, it's getting dark. I want to go back to that video store tonight and thank Max for helping us out. The girl at the counter told me he only works evenings, so I think now is probably the best time to catch him."

Charley's smile fell, and for a moment she saw a shadow of fear flit across his features before he quickly tried to recover as he threw an arm around her shoulder to lead Alex from the store. "If you want to do that, I don't see any problem. Just..." Charley licked his lips, "just...keep your concealer on you. The one with the mirror."

"Charley!" Alex exclaimed, pulling away from him. "If I pulled that thing out every time you thought someone working an evening shift was a vampire, people would begin to think I was developing a mental condition."

Charley frowned, crossing his arms and stepping away, "Alex. Twice. I've been through this thing _twice_. I think it's perfectly reasonable to take precautions. Besides, you know vampires can influence you to do just about anything if you're not on your guard! If that guy is a blood-drinking psycho-" his voice was beginning to rise, and Alex leaned forward to clamp a hand over his mouth, glancing about her with an embarrassed expression, hoping nobody was paying too much attention to the scene he was trying to make.

"Listen to me, Charley Brewster. Enough is enough. You may have PTSD, but you can't live your life in fear. It isn't living. I've got a crucifix in my pocket, and the man wears glasses for god's sake. Not to mention, the prescription looks awfully strong. I doubt he could make eye contact with _anybody_ , let alone hypnotize me to do his bidding. So stop behaving like an ass." She pressed her lips together tightly after speaking. It really wasn't how she would talk to a patient. But he wasn't one. He was her fiancee.

Charley placed a hand on hers, pulling it away from his mouth. "You're right. I just want you to be careful, Alex. That's all. I'm never going to be able to let this go. And I like to know you're safe. I mean..." He sighed, looking up at the ceiling before back at her, "what if...what if Regine and Jerry had another sibling? What if...what if there was another one who managed to slip away, and just spends every evening waiting for us both to be caught off guard?"

Alex leaned forward and kissed Charley's forehead, remaining pressed against him just a little longer than a second before pulling away and sweeping his bangs across his forehead in a soothing gesture, "we'll worry about it if it happens. But it's not going to. So just let it go, okay?"

"...I'll try."

* * *

"That, my friend, was far more of an adventure than I should have liked it to be," Peter told himself as he pulled his car into the driveway to park. The place wasn't really homey by his definition. Nor was it of a particularly enviable class. Whoever owned this place must be an interesting character indeed, he mused, as he pushed his car door open and slid out. He took a moment to straighten his suit jacket and brush a bit of lint from his tie. The duster and remainder of his traditional get-up were safely packed in the trunk. Peter had decided it for the best to save them unless he absolutely knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would be rushing into some sort of mishap with Charley. It was best not to seek out and invite danger, after all.

And of course, when he had taken that one wrong turn after he'd managed to finally get to the freeway the prior evening, it had been most unpleasant to stumble into that small town of vampires. Thankfully they'd been too distracted by a gang of thugs, especially a particularly vicious little girl, to notice him when he'd been forced to make a pit stop. As much as he may have liked to dispatch with every single one of those awful creatures, Peter had no interest in rushing into a fight like that without at least one person by his side to support...and possibly hide behind.

"Who're you?" A gruff old man called out from the front porch of the house, stalking towards Peter.

"Oh, goodness, a friendly face at last!" Peter exclaimed, rushing forward with his hands extended, "I do hope you can help me. I was given the impression that my dear friends, a mister Charley Brewster and his lovely companion, Alex, were staying here for the time being. Am I correct in assuming this is the place I was looking for?"

The old man grunted, remaining on the porch, and not making one single move to step forward and greet Peter.

"Don't really get many guests around here. Don't like em."

Peter smiled weakly, lowering his hands. Oh dear. This man was most definitely not a gracious host in the slightest. "Ah, yes...well, I completely understand. I assure you, an unexpected person appearing on my doorstep would set me on my heels as well. But I am, in fact, not planning to stay the evening and trouble any of you more than I have to. I simply wanted to be sure my friends were settling into this...enchanting..." he paused at the last word, endeavoring to be polite about a coastal town full of so many scandalously under-dressed women and men with poor manners, "...city..."

The old man scratched his chin and watched Peter, still not moving from his spot. It was an unsettling moment, standing in front of this stranger, feeling as if he were being picked apart piece by piece like some sort of science project. But Peter somewhat understood the man's behavior. Clearly he wasn't raised to be quite so gracious of a host, if his surroundings were anything to judge by.

"Alright. I believe you. You can wait here, but I ain't inviting you in. Do whatever you want," he shrugged, heading inside the house.

 _'Not inviting me in? What on earth...'_ Peter decided to assume the man was just implying he shouldn't overstay his welcome. Not that he wasn't allowed inside the house...so he followed. Americans could be so incredibly rude sometimes.


End file.
